Look, But Don't Touch
by mamapranayama
Summary: Sam touches something he shouldn't in the batcave, finding himself in the body of a skinny warlock and transported to the mythical Kingdom of Camelot. At the same time, Merlin is thrust into the future for reasons he can't fathom, struggling to find a way back home.
1. Chapter 1: Look, but Don't Touch

_**Disclaimer: I don't own either Supernatural or Merlin.**_

_**A/N: Hello. Well ... this is going to be a little bit of an experiment for me as this is my first cross-over fic. I'm publishing it as a WIP in the hopes that I can update it at least once a week and get me back into the habit of writing on a consistent basis. Anyways ... I hope you enjoy and drop me a line to let me know what you think of it, good or bad. This also doesn't have a beta, so all mistakes are completely mine.  
**_

_**Takes place season 8 of Supernatural and mid-season 3 of Merlin**_

_**OoOoOoOo**_

**Look, but Don't Touch**

**OoOoOoOo**

Sam blew off a layer of dust from yet another box and tried to hold in a sneeze.

He sneezed anyway.

Dean sent a half-sympathetic look towards his brother as he stacked another box onto the shelf, "Gesundheit".

"Damn … "Sam sniffed, "Just how much stuff you think is in here?" He asked, looking uncertainly into the depths of the cavernous storage vault. Dean had just found the room in the bowels of their new-found 'bat-cave' as he called it and immediately dragged Sam down to see it as well.

Dean blew out a breath, seeming to be just as overwhelmed as Sam over the sheer amount of stuff that filled the space, "Dunno … but I guess we should get an inventory." He replied, picking up a small trinket that neither of them knew the purpose of, turning it over in his hands, "Ya know … for men of letters, you'd think they'd label a thing or two."

Sam couldn't help but agree with Dean for once, and snorted, taking the trinket from his brother's hands and carefully placing it back on the shelf. "Yeah … and we don't know what half of these things down here do, so be careful. Wouldn't want either one of us to get accidentally cursed … again." He remarked, clearly recalling a certain run-in with a rather unlucky rabbit's foot.

Dean grunted and nodded distractedly, walking further into the vault while eying the shelves stacked twelve feet high with various curse boxes, weapons, and objects.

Sam too was fascinated and followed Dean slowly into the space. Dean stopped before one shelf and whistled lowly, "Whoa … take a look at this." Dean pulled a large, wooden crossbow from a shelf and eyed it admiringly, "This thing is ancient. Think it still works?"

Sam Shot Dean an exasperated glare." Dean … seriously?"

"Oh right … look, but don't touch."

"Got it in one."

"You're no fun."

Eventually, the brothers drifted apart towards opposite ends of the vault on their own, each exploring the items they had apparently inherited. Most of the objects appeared to be contained in hex boxes, so Sam didn't even bother with trying to open them or find out what was in them, trusting that they were in them for a good reason, but some things were left out in plain view and he was caught up in wonder, imagining the history behind them all. There were weapons of all kinds; guns, knives, swords, even a freaking bazooka, but some of the other items appeared to be rather innocuous in nature; ornamental vases, mortars and pestles, including an enigma machine from WWII.

Despite the enormity of the collection, Sam wasn't sure there was much they could really do with it all except keep it all locked in the vault. Just as he finished that thought, Sam turned a corner towards another row of shelves and felt a strange sensation wash over him.

He could feel it in his toes and fingertips; a weird tingling that expanded with each step like he was pulled toward into an electromagnet. He found he couldn't stop himself or turn around and go back, he could only move forward. His feet didn't stop until he was standing in front of a shelf.

Upon the shelf sat a crystal. It wasn't anything really all that remarkable, just a shard of quartz that looked to have been cut and polished, yet at the same time there was something about it that Sam couldn't tear his eyes from.

Every thought in his head was telling him to turn around, to leave the thing alone since he didn't know what it was or what it did, but his hands wouldn't listen to his mind and lifted on their own. He simply could not resist it, like it was compelling him to touch it.

Sam's fingertips met the smooth, polished surface of the stone. It was cold to the touch at first, it soon became warm as a soft white glow began to emanate from the crystal's core. Transfixed by the light growing from its center, Sam's grip only tightened while the stone grew hot, but despite the heat searing his hands, he couldn't let it go.

The crystal suddenly flashed and an explosion of light engulfed him, blinding him and sending all of his senses into nothingness.

**OoOoOoOo**

Merlin sighed long and wearily.

Arthur answered by rolling his eyes and retuning his servant's sigh with one of his own, whispering, "Will you cut that out?"

"Cut what out?"

"You know what."

"If I did know what you were talking about, then why did I just ask what I should cut out?"

"You're going to scare away the game if you keep making noise."

"You're the one that started talking."

Arthur turned his head and glared, unwilling to concede Merlin's point, instead he simply growled low in his throat and readied his bow. Merlin knew he shouldn't push the prince, but in truth he was utterly and thoroughly bored. They had been tracking the same deer for hours, but each time the stag came into view and Arthur lined up shot with his longbow, the deer would either move till it was obscured by trees or amble off leisurely, just fast enough to get itself out of arrow's range.

It was like it was just toying with them.

Arthur was irritated and seemed to take the behavior of the buck as a persona affront to his hunting skills. He wasn't about to let this one go and it had become clear to Merlin that they were never going to leave the forest unless Arthur had that deer's carcass draped over his saddle.

Night was quickly approaching, however, and the shadows of the woods were growing long under the glow of the coming sunset. Soon there wouldn't be enough light for them to head back to the castle let alone catch a fickle deer.

"Don't you think we've been at this long enough?" Merlin asked, heedless of Arthur's annoyance, "This deer has clearly outsmarted you."

"_Mer_lin …" Arthur growled, gritting his teeth, "I swear to all that is good and honest in this world that if you do not shut up, I will hunt _you_ instead of the deer."

Merlin muttered under his breath something about pratty princes, but just as he was thinking about pointing out how dark it was getting, Arthur raised his hand at the sound of a rustling breaking through the trees. Crouching, both Arthur and Merlin readied themselves behind a bush and a large tree, the prince pulling an arrow from his quiver and nocking it to the bow's string, preparing for his chance to finally take down the blasted deer.

At last, the buck's antlers came into view as he stepped into the clearing, dipping its head to the forest floor to graze on some acorns. Carefully and quietly, Arthur stood, raised his bow and arrow to the sky then pulled back on the bowstring while lowering it down to aim for the deer's midsection. It was a clear shot, but Arthur was took care to make sure his aim was true and was still as a statue for several moments, holding the nock of the arrow with his fingers pressed against his cheek as he calmed his breathing.

Merlin held his breath. He hated this part of the hunt; knowing that the deer was soon to die by Arthur's hand. He felt nothing but sympathy for the animal and he had half a mind to shift or cough in order to scare the deer away since he really didn't like seeing such majestic creatures killed, but it was pointless to even try that when Arthur was so determined and they may never leave this forest until his master had his trophy.

It turned out that Merlin needed not make a single noise when the deer's head suddenly lifted, its ears flattening against its head just before it darted off into the forest at full pelt. Arthur's reaction was instantaneous as he let loose his arrow, but he was still a half second too late and the arrow embedded itself into a tree just behind the spot where the deer had previously been grazing.

Arthur stomped his feet and let fly a string of curse words that even Gwaine would have blushed to hear. He turned on Merlin, his face beet-red and angry, "Merlin! What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, I swear!" Merlin came back, raising his hands. For once, he really hadn't done anything to scare the animals away.

"You must have made some kind of noise. Deer don't just run unless –"

A grunting and snorting sound followed by a rustling in the bushes quickly had Arthur shutting his mouth and raising his guard.

"Boar?" Merlin asked.

"Possibly … hand me my spear."

Merlin reached the spear attached to the pack on his pack and handed it off to Arthur, who took a step out from the bush, tense and hefting his spear up, ready to throw the moment he saw the boar. Cautiously, he moved forward, holding a hand out towards Merlin, silently communicating for him to stay back. More growling noises erupted from the line of bushes opposite the clearing from them causing a knot of anxiety to twist in Merlin's stomach – it was starting to sound less and less like a boar, but the cover of the bushes was too thick for the creature to be seen.

Ignoring the Prince's direction to stay behind the bush, Merlin quickly shucked off the pack he had been carrying all day and pulled his sword from its scabbard. In truth, he was rubbish with a sword, but holding it in his hands while Arthur moved towards the sounds coming from the bushes gave him a slight measure of comfort. Even though he really didn't need a sword given the magic he had flowing through his veins, Merlin had to be careful when he used it, and especially around Arthur who still knew nothing about him being a warlock and whose father would readily sentence him to death if he was discovered. He couldn't really go about casting spells right in front of him, so sword he would wield unless he was forced to use magic to save their backsides … again.

Arthur was only a few steps in front of Merlin when the rustling in the bushes in front of him suddenly stopped and all went deafeningly quiet – not a single bird peeped or cricket chirped.

"What the –" halting, the prince looked about in confusion. Merlin felt his hair stand on end as a terrible dread washed over him and sent his magical instincts into a full-tilt panic. Whatever it was – it was no boar.

They needed to get out of there – _now_.

Before Merlin could open his mouth to warn Arthur, the bush in front of him exploded outward, leaves and twigs flying in all directions. All he saw was a mass of black fur and long, vicious teeth as his ears were filled with a deafening, wild roar. Had the creature been about four times smaller, Merlin would have thought it a wolf, but it wasn't just its size that set it apart from any normal dog or wolf, it was its red, glowing eyes that radiated pure evil – the likes of which he had never seen before.

Instantly, the beast charged, knocking Arthur into a nearby tree with a simple swipe of one clawed paw, tossing the young man into a nearby tree before Merlin could do a damn thing to stop it. Arthur's head connected forcefully with a sickening crack against the trunk and he fell boneless to the ground in a heap, his spear lying useless by his side. In a blur, the beast reared on Merlin and before he could breathe a word of any kind of spell that might repel the creature's attack, the thing pounced on him, knocking him onto his back, his sword flying from his hand. It landed on soundly on his chest, its weight crushing him as its long claws sank deep into his chest.

Merlin cried out in pain, his eyes flashing gold while his magic reacted instinctively, strengthening his arms in order to keep the teeth of the animal from tearing into his throat. This only served to anger the beast further and its claws dug in deeper, searing into flesh and muscle, its rancid, hot breath and spittle hitting him full in the face.

Pain encompassed Merlin. With the weight of beast upon his chest, he could hardly breathe and his vision was darkening, filling with black spots that floated in and out. Even his magic was weakening as he fought to throw the creature from him, but the more he tried to fight it, the stronger the thing seemed to become as though it was draining the magic from him and using it for itself.

Merlin pulled back his magic, using what was left of his physical strength to fight, but he knew it was not going to be enough. He could feel himself slipping. He was going to die. He was going to fail Arthur and Camelot.

His hold on consciousness loosening, Merlin mentally prepared himself for the finishing blow when the weight on his chest suddenly lifted and the claws ripped from his skin. The creature roared angrily and whirled, a spear embedded in its back while just behind it, Arthur wobbled unsteadily, breathing heavily as he dove for the sword Merlin had dropped, rolling as he grabbed it from the ground and started swinging.

Merlin's relief at seeing Arthur on his feet and still alive was short lived as he realized wearily that despite Arthur's incredible skills with a sword, he knew that that alone wasn't going to stop the beast.

He was going to need Merlin's help.

While the prince was distracted with the fight, Merlin raised a shaky hand and sent a wave of his magic into the sword, strengthening the blade, and sharpening its edges to make it deadlier just as Arthur managed to get a cutting blow in across the animal's muzzle.

With a pitiful whine, the beast fell back, shaking its head in pain. Arthur moved into to make the kill, but before he could get close enough, the beast roared then leaped into the bushes, disappearing into the forest just as quickly as it had attacked.

Merlin let his head fall back to the ground, his vision spinning and wavering as pain took a new hold over him. In the next second, Arthur's face filled his vision, backlit by a growing white light. His mouth was moving as if he was speaking, but Merlin couldn't hear a word of it – the blood rushing in his ears was too loud. At the same time, a strange tingling sensation had taken over his body, replacing the pain with numbness and soon Arthur's face was fading into a bright, white light.

Merlin felt as if he was being pulled up and out in all directions at once and in a flash, the light was all around him until he knew nothing anymore.

**OoOoOoOo**

He was aware of pain – deep in his chest, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how he had been injured. Had they been hunting something? He didn't think so. He tried to think about the last thing he had been doing, but he only came up blank. He pondered all of this without bothering to open his eyes** – **he was too tired and in his body ached too much for him to come around completely and instead, he slipped back into blissful nothingness.

When he woke again, it was to the sound of voices.

"How long is he going to be out?" A young man asked.

What was that? A British accent?

"Hard to say, Sire. He lost a good deal of blood." An older voice answered.

Sire? Who the hell calls anyone sire? What the hell?

He tried to open his eyes, but it was like peeling duct tape off a hairy arm, it almost physically hurt. However, if he was going to get any answers, he needed to get his stubborn eyelids to work. Finally, he managed to get them apart a slit and was immediately assaulted by light streaming in from a nearby window, causing him to wince and moan. He could now add headache to his lists of pains.

"I think he's coming around." The older man spoke.

The younger man grumbled, a hint of worry lacing his voice, "It's about time."

He blinked several times as his eyes adjusted better to the light and soon two faces entered his field of vision. One was a young man, blond and rugged while the other man was far older with white hair down to his shoulders. But what worried him more than waking up to two strangers' faces was the fact that both of them looked as though they had stolen their outfits from a Medieval Times restaurant.

"There you are, my boy. How are you feeling?" The old man asked.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, hoping that when he opened again that things wouldn't be so confusing and he might be somewhere he recognized, but upon opening them again, the two faces remained watching him intensely. He groaned.

"I see he's just as articulate as usual." The young man quipped, sounding an awful lot like a British version of his older brother.

He opened his mouth to speak and to start asking the many, many questions he had swirling in his head, but all that came out was a dry croak.

The old man quickly realized his predicament and reached for a cup of water, holding it up to his lips so he could gulp down several mouthfuls.

Thirst slated and throat calmed, he tested his voice again, "Where?" He coughed, "Where am I?

The younger and older man looked at each other warily, "You're in your room, idiot." The blond man answered, "Where else?"

"Uh …" He was even more confused now, "my motel room? Wait … you two are LARPers, aren't you?"

Now it was the blond guy's turn to be confused, "What on Earth is a motel? And who this Larp person?"

Okay … that was it. He needed answers yesterday. He made to sit up but was gently pushed back down by the old man.

"Lie back, Merlin. You'll only pull those stiches out."

He froze. _Merlin?_

"What did you just call me?" He asked, his heart beginning to pound.

"Your name_, Merlin_. You do remember that, don't you?"

He shook his head in disbelief, feeling all of the blood drain from his face. "What? That's not my name – Merlin isn't a real person. My name is -"He then turned his gaze downwards. His chest was swathed in bandages – or rather – not his chest, but someone else's.

The body he was currently attached to was definitely not his. This body was at least half a foot too short and about fifty pounds too skinny to be his.

Someone had body swapped him … again.

_Shit – shit, shit, shit …_

**ooOoOoOoo**

Many, many years later another young man was just waking up as well – not that he really wanted to – he was quite comfortable actually.

He must have been sleeping on a cloud. That was the only explanation for the heavenly softness under his body. Gods … he had never felt anything so soft and cushioned. He hummed contentedly and rolled to his side. The cushion beneath him shifted and then molded to his body's new position perfectly as if it knew exactly where he needed more support.

"Hey … you awake?"

He felt a hand shake his shoulder. He just wanted them to go away and let him go back to the business of sleeping on this wonderful bed.

He mumbled something that he hoped would send them away, but instead the hand on his shoulder just shook him harder. Must be Arthur - only that prat would wake him from such bliss. He probably had some stables that needed mucking or armor to polish, but right now, he really didn't care. He just wanted to sleep a little bit longer on this cloud.

"G'way."

"C'mon, Sammy. I know the memory foam is awesome, but you've been out for hours. Just open your eyes and let me know you're okay then you can go back to sleep."

Something clicked in his head –_ Sammy_?

His eyes snapped open and he shot up, immediately encountering the concerned face of a stranger.

"Whoa … take it easy. You okay?" The man asked.

His wide eyes roamed around the unfamiliar room and then landed again on the other man.

"Where am I? What's …? He turned his head as he caught his reflection in a large mirror sitting on what looked to be a chest of drawers. He stopped cold and gulped.

That was not him.

But when he moved his head, the reflection followed.

He gulped and looked back at the strange man, "What the hell is happening?" He pointed towards the mirror, "Who is that?"

The other man stared at him with a mixture of concern and confusion, "That's you, dumbass."

He looked down at his hands.

They were not his hands.

They were huge … his whole body was huge.

This was not his body.

_Oh shite_.

_Shite, shite, shite …_

**_TBC ..._**


	2. Chapter 2: Not in Kansas Anymore

_**Disclaimer: I **_**still**_** don't own either Supernatural or Merlin.**_

_Hello again. I just wanted thank everyone that responded to the first chapter of this with either a review, a follow or a favorite. I really do appreciate the feedback and I'm sorry if I didn't get a chance to reply to you yet._

_Anyhoo ... on to chapter 2 where Merlin and Sam both try to make sense of their situations, Arthur and Gaius are clueless, and Dean thinks his brother is possessed by a demon._

**Chapter 2: Not in Kansas Anymore**

Sam lay on the bed and closed his eyes, contemplating his current predicament while the other two men stepped away and conferred together in hushed tones that he could still hear.

"What's wrong with him, Gaius?" The young man asked.

"I'm not certain, sire. It is possible that his blood loss has caused some confusion."

"_Some_ confusion? You saw him - he didn't even know his name and it's like he doesn't recognize us."

"I'm sure that all this is temporary and with some rest he'll be back to normal soon." The old man reassured the other gently, "In the meantime, there is little else you or I can do for him but give him time, so I suggest you return to your chambers and get some sleep as well. That concussion will not get better if you fail to take care of yourself, Arthur."

"But he'll be okay?"

"I think so. His wounds should heal nicely and there is no sign of infection thus far."

"Alright." The younger man reluctantly agreed after a few moments of contemplation, "I'll head back to my room, but you'll send for me when he's in a better shape to talk?"

"Of course, sire." There was a slight pause, "And Arthur?"

"Yes, Gaius?"

"Thank you for getting him home and for saving his life."

"I just wish I had been able to kill the beast that did this. I wounded it, but it's still out there somewhere and I won't rest easy until it's dead." The young man stated resolutely.

Sam kept his eyes shut as he heard footsteps march out of the room followed by a quiet shutting of a door.

Sam felt a hand on his shoulder squeeze him soothingly."Really Merlin, you must calm down. You're going to be just fine."

He snapped his eyes open and jerked away at the unexpected touch, regretting it immediately as white hot pain ripped through the wounds on his chest - wounds he still had no clue how he got - or rather - how Merlin got. Gaius kept a firm hold on him, gently pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Try not to move, you'll just make things worse."

Sam, in desperate need of answers, asked, "Please … what is going on? How did I get here?

"You were attacked by a creature in the forest. But you were lucky Arthur got you both back to Camelot just in time before you lost too much blood. You had me frightened there for a while."

All at once, everything snapped into place, though Sam was reluctant to believe any of it. The young guy had called Sam 'Merlin' and the old guy had called the blond man 'Arthur' - two names that usually only went together in legends.

It couldn't be ...

Sam's racing heart found a way to beat even harder.

"Camelot? I'm in _Camelot_?" He closed his eyes again. This wasn't happening. It was some kind of dream, but when he opened them again, he was still in the same bed with Gaius looking at him worriedly.

"Yes, Merlin. You've lived here with me for the past three years."

"Right … sure. I live in Camelot." Sam muttered sarcastically, almost snorting at the absurdity of it all. "And let me guess – that guy was King Arthur and I'm Merlin, his sorcerer. C'mon ... you guys are messing with me, right? You're just role-players from that Moondoor place, aren't you?"

Gaius' expression grew even more grave as he leaned in close and started running a hand through Sam's hair.

Sam reared back at the intrusion into his personal space, "What are you doing?"

"Checking you for a head injury or fever that might explain your apparent amnesia and strange behavior."

Sam batted Gaius' hands away feebly, his arms lacking any kind of strength. "I don't have a head injury or a fever. Trust me, I would know."

Gaius eyed him with a deep frown. "Yet when you first awoke you claimed that Merlin was not your name and you seem to think that Arthur is king when he is only a prince. Also ... you seemed to have picked up a strange accent."

All of those were valid points the apparently observant old man made, but Sam wasn't sure how far he could trust him. He hadn't seen anything from Gaius but a desire to help and genuine concern, but should he tell him the truth – that he had somehow been tossed from the future and into the body of a legendary sorcerer and that his accent was from a country that hadn't even been discovered yet? It sounded crazy even to him. He wasn't sure what the ramifications would be if this man thought him to be insane, so he decided that maybe he should just roll with the whole memory loss thing. Besides … when did he or Dean ever tell people they didn't know the truth right off the bat? It usually only ended up with people freaking out, so Sam decided to lie at least for now.

"I know. I was kind of out of sorts when I woke up. I'm just really tired is all and I'm sure I'll be fine come morning." Sam replied, winging it as he went, even going so far as to try out an English accent, hoping that it might help him fit better into the role of Merlin, even if the extent of his exposure to it was limited to _Monty Python_ and _Doctor Who_ reruns.

Gaius arched a critical eyebrow, looking at Sam as if he had grown a second head. Internally, he cursed his terrible rendition of the accent, knowing that he probably sounded less convincing as an Englishman than Kevin Costner in _Robin Hood_. He was going to have to work on it or come up with a better excuse for sounding so foreign.

Sam let out a little breath of relief as the older man nodded, albeit slowly, "Yes … I should think a good night's rest would do you some good." Gaius reached for a small vial sitting on the small table next to the bed and handed it to Sam, "Here … drink this. It will help with the pain and let you sleep."

Sam gripped the bottle and sniffed it experimentally, "What is it?"

"It's nothing you haven't had before. Come now, drink it down."

"All of it?"

"Yes, Merlin. All of it."

Sam took a breath then drank the concoction like he was taking a shot of whiskey, trying not to let the liquid touch his tongue. The vile-smelling stuff was rather thick however, and more than enough of it touched his taste buds to make mouth instant revolt and he gagged violently, squeezing his eyes shut tight as his whole body shivered in disgust.

"Ughhhh. Ohhhh … that tastes like ass."

Gaius' eyebrow nearly reached his hairline and he looked a little put-out. "Tastes like an ass?" The older man shrugged thoughtfully. "Hmmm … I suppose that is rather accurate," he conceded.

Suddenly the older man chuckled and then affectionately slapped Sam's knee, "Well, at least I can say with some confidence that you should be back to normal soon since you can still say the most idiotic things." Gaius grinned as if relieved then stood and pulled the blanket draped over Sam's legs up to his chin. "Why don't you go to sleep again and we'll see how you are feeling in the morning."

Sam frowned a little, but nodded tiredly, still smacking his lips to get the taste of the potion out of his mouth. Gaius bent over a nearby candle and blew it out before shuffling to the door and bidding Sam a good-night.

Alone and in the dark now, Sam tried to calm himself down a little and rationalize his situation. Both Gaius and Arthur, though seemingly concerned, seemed to think that Merlin was some kind of moron, which contrasted starkly with all that Sam had read about Merlin from the Arthurian tales. He was usually depicted as a wise, old, mystical, and powerful wizard wearing tall pointy hats and long flowing robes yet here he was, in the gangly body of the real Merlin who was barely older than a teenager. It was all confusing and he didn't know what to think. It was just that the reality of being Merlin was clearly not what he was expecting - not that he had been expecting any of this.

Sam realized that he needed to put his previous notions about all of the legends he had read about Camelot behind him and focus on coming up with a plan to get back to his own body and to Dean. First things first, he needed to recall just what had happened before he woke up as Merlin.

He thought back, remembering Dean's excitement as he called Sam down into the vault … Dean playing with a cross-bow … Sam wandering off to the right while Dean went left … then …

Sam's memories became fuzzy after that as the potion Gaius had him drink was starting to have an effect, making it hard for him to dig any deeper. But as Sam started to drift into sleep, his mind conjured up an image of him picking up a palm-sized crystal and then light surrounding him.

It must have been the crystal … somehow it had sent him here. How it happened, he didn't have a clue, and he was just too sleepy to ponder that question further. Seconds later, his snores filled the room.

OoOoOoOoOo

Merlin sat staring at his hands – or rather – not his hands as they started to shake. He'd seen and done some pretty unbelievable things before, but nothing like this. He touched his face, feeling sharp stubble scratch at his fingers as the traveled up to his hair – his really long hair – some stranger's hair.

"Dude … what's wrong with you?"

Merlin looked up and met eyes with the worried-looking, spiky-haired man sitting next to him. He had been so overwhelmed there for a moment that he had forgotten the other man was there. Suddenly, he found himself blurting out questions as fast as his mouth would allow, "What is going on? Who are you and where am I and what on earth is a ... a dude?"

Spiky-hair's eyes narrowed, first with confusion and then with anger as if he just realized something. "Son of a bitch," he uttered, springing from the bed.

Heading quickly for the wall behind him, the now irate man pulled down something that looked something like a crossbow, but with no string and two metal tubes where the bolt should have been. Merlin had never seen anything like it, but he didn't need to know what it was in order to know that if it was pointed at him, then it could probably hurt him.

Merlin raised his hands as Spiky-hair shouted at him, "Get out of him! NOW!"

Moving his mouth like a floundering fish, Merlin was stunned into silence. Keeping the whateveritwas pointed at him, Spiky-hair reached for a silver flask sitting on the table beside him then tossed its contents towards Merlin. Cold water hit him full in the face, soaking his hair and shirt in the process.

Forgetting all about the not-crossbow pointed at him, Merlin temporarily forgot the danger he was in. Was this man seriously attacking him with water? What was that supposed to accomplish? "What the hell was that for?" He asked incredulously.

"You might not be a demon, but I'm not stupid and I know you're not Sam." Spiky-hair advanced on him furiously. "Where is he?"

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." Merlin shouted back.

Faster than the young warlock would have thought possible without the use of magic, the other man dropped his strange weapon, grabbed Merlin's hand in a vice-like grip then pulled a silver blade from his pocket.

Seeing the knife, Merlin's eyes widened and he began to struggle, but the other man's grip had clamped onto him too tightly for him to break free. He reached inside instinctively for his magic, but he couldn't feel it – there was nothing there for him to grab onto. In a panic and defenseless without his powers, Merlin could only pull on his arm in vain while the blade glinted in the light and then dragged shallowly across the skin of his arm.

Expecting this to be the end – that he was about to die at the hand of a madman – Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain to come.

But after just a few moments with nothing more than a slight stinging sensation, Merlin's arm was released and he tentatively opened on eye, glancing down at his wound, which turned out to be nothing more than a superficial nick in his skin.

Merlin was relieved yet incensed at the same time, "Are you completely mad?" He shouted, "You can't just go around cutting people and tossing water in their faces for no good reason. What did I ever do to you?"

"I had to make sure you weren't a shapeshifter."

"A what?"

"It doesn't matter. I know you're not Sam. He doesn't talk like a freaking extra from _Downton Abbey. _So, I'm going to ask you just one more time ... who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

"Look …" Merlin begged, his hand stretching out, hoping to placate the man's insanity, "I honestly don't have the foggiest idea what you are raving about. All I know is that I was in the woods hunting with Arthur when something attacked us and the next thing I know there's this bright, white light and then I'm here in this gigantic body being assaulted by a lunatic."

"Where's Sam?"

"How should I know? I don't even know who he is!"

"Then who are you?"

"My name's Merlin."

"Merlin? Seriously?" Spiky hair asked disbelievingly, "Who the hell names their kid _Merlin_?"

A little offended, and incensed, Merlin responded crossly, "My mother, for one."

"Right. And I guess you're gonna tell me that you're from Camelot as well."

"Yes. Well ... actually, I'm from a village called Ealdor, but I live in Camelot now. How did you know?"

Spiky-hair paused and stared at Merlin like _he_ was the lunatic, "Sure … and I'm Chuck Norris." The man stated rather sarcastically, though for what reason, Merlin didn't have any idea.

"Well … I would say that it is nice to meet you, Chuck Norris, but under the circumstances, I don't think that would be appropriate." Merlin countered with his own brand of sarcasm, letting his frustration take over his common sense as he stood and faced the other, possibly dangerous man, almost nose to nose. He'd taken enough of this man's hostility and he wasn't about to back down even if this Chuck guy was a man who was much like Arthur and used to being in charge. Merlin however, was used to such bluster from men who thought they were tougher than him and wasn't afraid to speak his mind if he had to. "What we need to do is think this thing out without you being a dollop-head about it all because I'm sure you want this 'Sam' back as much as I want to go home. Am I right?"

The two men glared at each other for a few tense moments, both gritting their teeth until Chuck Norris finally spit out a sharp, "I just want Sam back."

Merlin backed off a little, "Then let's work together, Chuck. It's the only way."

Green eyes drilled into Merlin's with a fierce intensity that didn't completely mask the fear and worry behind them, "Alright, fine. We'll work together on this, but let's get a few things straight, okay? First of all, you do as I say and you stick by me at all times, got it?"

Merlin breathed out in relief and nodded, feeling some of the tension ease between them, "Thank you, Chuck."

"And second of all quit calling me Chuck, my name is Dean."

"Uh … okay." Merlin wondered briefly why he hadn't he just said that in the first place.

"And lastly … if you try anything funny I'll -"

"What? You'll kill me?" Merlin interrupted somewhat flippantly. He didn't believe that for a second, "You wouldn't and you know it. I'm in Sam's body and if you kill me, he'll have nothing to come back to."

"That might be true, but I won't hesitate to knock you out and tie you up. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to do that to my own brother."

Merlin gulped, seeing the truth behind the other man's words and trying not to let his fear take over, pleading with the other man to understand that he was being sincere as well, "Okay … I promise, I'm not going to do anything. I just want to go home. You have to believe me, I didn't want or choose for this to happen and I think you'll have to agree that if I'm in Sam's body then it might be possible that he's in mine and is just as scared and confused as I am. Wouldn't you want whoever he wakes up to to be just a little more understanding than you are being right now?"

Dean ground his teeth together, "Fine, but you're still nine kinds of crazy and I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"Oh yes - _I'm_ the crazy one here." Merlin muttered under his breath, "Now, can we please think like rational adults and find a way to reverse this? Clearly there must be some kind of magic involved with all of this."

"Magic? You mean like witchcraft?"

"Yeah ... I guess." Merlin approached the question he needed to ask next carefully, without directly telling this stranger that he had magic himself, "What do you know about it?"

"You'd be surprised how much."

"So, you've encountered magic before?"

"You could say that."

"Now I have to ask you something that you may not like, but is Sam a sorcerer? I promise I won't breathe a word to anyone if he does have magic, but we need to get to the bottom of this."

"What? No …" Dean denied vehemently, "Sam's not a sorcerer or a witch or anything like that. In fact, he's pretty much just the opposite. See … we're hunters." Dean pointed to himself, "we look for this kind of stuff and try to put a stop to it."

Feeling a knot form in his stomach, Merlin was going to have to make sure he tread carefully around this subject so as not to reveal just how involved with magic he was. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to hunt him down after he got back into his body once again.

"Then we'll just have to go back to what he was doing before all this happened." Merlin suggested warily, but trying to appear like wasn't shaking on the inside.

"Yeah … I've been going over that in my head and I think I actually know what caused this. Sam and I were in the storage vault, just looking at stuff. I went one way, he went the other and this next thing I know I hear a thud and I find him – or you rather, unconscious on the floor with this in your hand." Dean reached into pocket connected to his pants and pulled out a crystal the size of his hand. "He must have picked it up and it did this to you guys."

Merlin gasped involuntarily, his eyes wide as his breath hitched as recognition of the object hit him full in the face.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Merlin's reaction, "You know what this is, don't you?"

Heart in his throat, Merlin nodded slowly, backing away from it, fearful of what it might do next and remembering clearly what that stone had done to him last time he had seen it – the things he had seen happen in it and the horrible way all that it had shown him had come to pass. But he couldn't tell Dean about his personal encounter with it – not if he wanted to keep his secret safe from him. He would have to keep things as vague as possible.

"I've seen it once before. I only know that it's the Crystal of Neahtid. Arthur retrieved it from a group of Druids who had stolen it from the vaults and it was supposed to be locked away deep under Camelot after that. How did you get a hold of it?"

"As far as I know, it's been stored here for ages. Up until a few days ago, no one's been in this place for at least fifty years."

"Fifty years? But it was locked away only about a year or so ago—"

Merlin almost heard the clicking sounds in his head as he froze and truly took in his surroundings for the first time. Everything from the strange weapons on the wall to the light coming from above him without the use of fire and to Dean's strange clothes and accent, shouted at Merlin that he was even further away from home than he had first imagined. "Wait … are you trying to tell me I'm_ fifty_ _years_ in the future?"

Dean looked at Merlin with a face that almost bordered on compassionate, "Dude … if you are who you say you are, which is still a bit much to swallow, and that you're Merlin - _the_ Merlin from Camelot - the same one with King Arthur and round tables and all that crap, then it's been way, way more than fifty years … it's been more than a _thousand_ years. And I hate to break it to you, but you're not in Camelot anymore, you're in Kansas."

TBC ...


	3. Chapter 3: Dungeons and Dragons

**_A/N: Whew ... this chapter kinda got away from me, but hopefully you guys will like it. I know it is kind of a stretch crossing over these two fandoms, but I just want to thank everyone that has read and supported this story - y'all are awesome!_  
**

**Chapter 3: Dungeons and Dragons**

Merlin was taken aback; his heart thumping madly as he stumbled backward in shock. His knees weakened until they gave out completely and he fell onto the bed behind him, "A thousand years?" He exclaimed, "How is that even remotely possible?"

"I don't know, man. You're the supposed sorcerer. Shouldn't_ you_ know?"

Merlin looked up at Dean, surprised, "You know about my magic?"

"Well … yeah. " Dean replied, as if it was obvious. "_if _you are who you say you are."

"How do you know about that? I never told you."

"It's in all of the books and legends and stuff."

"Legends? _I'm_ in them?"

"No._ I_ am, chucklehead." Dean rolled his eyes, when Merlin didn't seem to get the point of his joke. Dean was suddenly grabbing Merlin by the arm and hauling him up, "You know what, it doesn't matter. C'mon, we need to do is some research and learn just what this crystal of Nematode does and how it can get you and Sam back where you belong."

Dean herded Merlin out of the bedroom and down a hall and into a grand, open chamber that had him stopping in his tracks, nearly stumbling over feet that felt at least three sizes too big for him. He gaped in awe and wonder, his mouth hanging open.

He'd never seen anything like this place. In a word, it was magnificent.

It had to be at least the same size as the grand hall in the castle at Camelot, but it was full of things he had never seen before, devices he could only imagine the purpose for, and most astoundingly of all, books – hundreds, perhaps thousands of them – more than even Geoffrey of Monmouth tended to in the great library.

"What is this place?" Merlin all but whispered, yet heard his voice echo off the walls.

Dean turned to him and grinned, "Welcome to the batcave."

"Batcave? " Merlin looked around anxiously, ready to duck if need be. "There are bats in here?" Gods, he hated bats.

"No." Dean shook his head with a little snort. "I just call it that because we're underground."

"Underground? Like a dungeon?"

"Does this look like a dungeon to you? It's more like Batman's lair." At Merlin's baffled expression, Dean threw up his hands, "Nevermind. This place was kinda left to me and Sam and we use it as a sort of base of operations. "

"You mean to tell me that you and your brother live here – just the two of you alone in this enormous place?"

Dean nodded proudly, "You should see the kitchen … oh … and the firing range. Pretty cool, huh?"

"No … it's actually quite comfortable in here."

Dean looked up at the ceiling, exasperated, "Wow. How am I supposed to believe that you are some wise, old wizard inhabiting the body of my little brother when you're such a freaking doofus?"

Merlin had no idea what a doofus was, but he had feeling it might be something akin to 'idiot', an insult he was far too familiar with. Except for Gaius, everyone always underestimated him – never thinking it possible that he was anything but a bumbling fool who was inept at just about everything. This belief that others had of him wasn't anything new and Arthur had called him much worse, so he let the insult roll off his shoulders. Merlin knew he was no idiot and that's all that really mattered.

Dean's use of the word 'old' to describe him was another matter however. "What do you mean old? I'm only 21 years old."

"Really? Does that have something to do with the whole aging in reverse thing? 'Cause I always called bullshit on that."

Now it was Merlin's turn to look at Dean like he was the idiot, "That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"It's just a legend. No one actually thinks it's real or anything. Heck, most people don't even believe that you or Arthur or Camelot ever existed."

"What?"

"Look, man. Those legends have been around for ages and you know how stories like those go - the longer they go on, the further away from the truth they become. That's why no one believes them. People these days don't have a clue what's really out there, especially when it comes to things like magic and sorcerers and stuff. Hell, I even_ I_ don't believe that you're really the great and powerful Merlin and I've seen some pretty crazy shit in my life."

"You still don't believe me? Why would I lie about who I am?"

"I don't know, but how am I supposed to know if anything you say is true?"

Merlin sighed. Dean certainly didn't trust anyone easily, but he had a point. "You're right. I guess I don't have any way to prove to you that I am who I say I am. The only way I can think to convince you would be to show you magic, but I can't even do that ..." That alone was enough to make Merlin feel helpless, like a big chunk of himself was missing without the comfort of having his magic swirling inside of him.

And that brought another disturbing thought to mind, "oh no …"

"What?" Dean asked.

"If I don't have magic in Sam's body then he must have it in mine." Merlin stated with growing dread.

Dean narrowed his eyes, but fear for his brother was clearly evident in them, "Will it hurt him?"

"No. Magic by itself isn't harmful." Merlin appeased the other man, but was worried none the less. Merlin knew how to handle his magic, and strove to use it only for good, but would Sam?

Deflating in relief, Dean let out a breath, "Sam's a smart guy. He won't go around turning people into toads left and right." Dean replied, sounding as if he was trying to reassure himself more than he was Merlin. "He'll be fine."

"You don't understand." Merlin came back vehemently. "I was born with magic and I know how to control it, but Sam won't. If he loses control of it, especially around the wrong people, it could be disastrous. Magic is against the law in Camelot and anyone caught using magic is executed."

**OoOoOoOo**

_Who are you? …_

Sam woke, blinking sleep-heavy eyelids, thinking that he had heard a voice, but all was still dark and quiet in the room.

He closed his eyes again, thinking that he must have dreamed what he heard.

_Where is Merlin?_

Sam's eyes flew open. He definitely heard that.

"Hello?" He looked around the room, but he was still alone, yet he heard what sounded like a sigh.

_I'm not in the room with you, boy. I'm in your mind. Now, tell me where is Merlin? What have you done with him?_

"Who is this?" Sam asked, sitting up carefully without pulling on the stitches in his chest.

_There is no need to speak aloud. Didn't I just explain to you how I was speaking in your mind? _

_I'm still asleep, aren't I? __  
_

To his surprise, the voice answered Sam's thought._ No, you are not. _

_So I'm just hallucinating ... great_. _Been there done that._ Sam mentally replied sarcastically, deciding to keep the dialog with the disembodied voice inside his head rather than speaking aloud. He didn't want to risk waking the old man downstairs. Gaius already seemed to think that Sam had a head injury, so there was no need to make him think he was insane as well.

_You are not hallucinating are however, not where you belong.  
_

_No kidding! _

Sam had several more questions pop into his head all at once and the young hunter felt rather than heard the voice sigh in exasperation.

_ So many questions yet I can only answer one at a time. Yes, this is real. No, I am not human, thank goodness. I am a dragon._ _And yes, I am a literal dragon, complete with scales and long, pointy teeth. Does that satisfy your curiosity?_

_Sure ... why not? I've already been body-swapped with a legendary wizard, why shouldn't I assume that I'm speaking with a telepathic talking dragon?  
_

_No need to be snarky, boy. _

_If you don't like my thoughts, then why don't you just get out of my head?_

_I will not leave until I know what has happened to Merlin. When I felt my dragonlord's soul being pulled away only to be replaced with the likes of you, I had to fly all night just so I could be close enough to hear your thoughts. All of this has made me very tired and very, very irritated, so don't try my patience. Now ... who are you and where is Merlin?_

Feeling a mixture of anger and annoyance directed at him though the link between them, Sam realized that there wasn't much he could really keep hidden_. My name is Sam_. _I was with my brother one minute and the next I'm waking up in someone else's body, so if I had to guess, then he's probably in mine. And trust me – I'd much rather be there than here, so if you have a way to send me back, I'm all ears.  
_

Sam heard a laugh echo in his head,_ Have you looked in a mirror lately? If you have, then you would know just how apt that description is._

From the dragon, an image came unbidden into his mind of a young, thin man with dark hair, blue eyes and an impressive pair of protruding ears. Somehow, Sam knew this was Merlin, even though all he had seen of the body he was inhabiting was from the neck down. True, the kid was kinda goofy looking, but his eyes held a kindness of spirit and friendliness that was undeniable.

_Now tell me ... where is this brother of yours so that I may find my missing warlock?_

_He's in Kansas. _Sam stated, trying to hide just how worried he was about Dean being so far away.

_Kansas? I have never heard of this kingdom. Where is it?_

Sam snorted humorlessly, thinking about how screwed he was this time. _It's not so much 'where' as 'when'. If you go there now, you'll only find a prairie and maybe a few buffalo._

_Men have often said that I speak in riddles, but you, boy, make no sense._

_Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm from the year 2013, which according to my estimates is about 1500 years from this time. So, unless you have a time machine, or some kind of magical spell than can switch us back, then I don't know how you are going to find him._

_Well … this is certainly an unprecedented situation you have found yourself in, isn't it, Sam? Does anyone else know who you truly are? Does Gaius know?_

_No. _

_And what of Merlin's magic?_

_His magic?_

_Certainly you can feel it within you, can you not?_

Sam _had_ felt something strange within him, but he had chalked the weird, wired sensation as a bi-product of injury and disorientation. However, now that he focused on it, he had to admit that it scared him a little. It felt far to close to the power he had when he had been on demon blood, but it also felt different. It didn't feel wrong or evil – it felt … pure and good.

_No, magic is not evil in and of itself, it is merely a tool, much like a hammer is in the hands of a carpenter. _The dragon stated, reading Sam's thoughts and feelings on it. _However, y__ou cannot fathom the enormity of this power contained in Merlin's body. Though he was born with this gift, he has yet to completely master it and for someone as untrained as yourself, the potential for disaster is extreme.  
_

_Why?_

_Because, Magic is outlawed in Camelot. _The dragon explained as if responding to a three-year-old's unending questions. _King Uther hates and fears magic, seeking to destroy _all_ who possess it for his own selfish reasons. Though Merlin uses his ability only for good and protects Prince Arthur with it on a regular basis, he must do so in secret. The king is so blinded by his bigotry towards magic that he would swiftly execute the young warlock should it become known that he has magic, so you must restrain yourself and reveal it to no one. The only one you may trust in Camelot with this secret is Gaius__  
_

_If his destiny is that important, can't you help us switch back again?_

_I may be powerful, but I am afraid that that is beyond my capabilities._

_Wonderful ..._ Sam muttered internally, knowing the dragon would pick up on his bitterness, _So what am I supposed to do? Keep pretending to be Merlin? I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't exactly sound like I'm from around here and I suck at an English accent._

_ Do not despair, young one. There is a spell I can tell you that will allow you to sound like a native of this land, but that will have to come later. First, you must tell me what happened just before you and Merlin switched places? Did you have an encounter with anyone or anything out of the ordinary?_

An image of the crystal Sam picked up sprang into his mind.

_Ahhh … the Crystal of Neahtid. Now things begin to make some sense. _

_What do you mean?_

_The Crystal of Neahtid was cut from the heart of the Crystal Cave in the Valley of the Kings. It is an ancient and sacred place of magic as old as time itself. You must go there and seek out Taliesin, he is the caretaker of the cave and he alone may be able to help you._

**ooOooOoo**

Merlin shut yet another book then tiredly rubbed his eyes. He looked over at Dean who was half-asleep with an open book under his nose. They'd been at this all night, searching the massive library for anything that might tell them more about the crystal and get Merlin and Sam switched back as soon as possible, but so far, their efforts hadn't produced much except for sore bottoms and massive headaches.

They'd already tried getting Merlin to hold the crystal, seeing if it would magically activate like it had apparently done for Sam, but nothing had happened. Somehow Sam had managed to get the thing to work and he had done it without magic, but Merlin, the supposed world's greatest sorcerer couldn't even get it to do anything except look shiny in his hand.

So, they had resorted to research, pulling out and reading stacks f books all while thoughts swirled in Merlin's head, worrying about what Sam might be doing in his body – it would be far too easy for him to accidentally use magic and expose himself to all of Camelot. But what could he do about it? He was powerless here and that was almost just as frightening as being so far from home. He wasn't used to such quiet within him and he missed the steady hum of magic he normally felt in his own body.

Dean looked up sharply, blinking rapidly as if the sound of Merlin's book closing had woken him, "Find anything in that one?"

"No … "Merlin sighed heavily, "all it says it what we already know; that the crystal that can show the future, nothing about it being able to switch people's minds across time."

"I'm not having much luck either," Dean commiserated, shutting his book with a thump.

Merlin rubbed his temples wearily and nodded, "We should take a break. We're not going to find anything if we're both exhausted."

"Nah … I'm fine," Dean lied, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. "You can catch some z's if you want, but I'm gonna keep looking."

"Catch some z's ? I'm just going to assume that you mean get some sleep, which you need too." Merlin pointed out, heedless of the glare the other man shot him.

Dean shook his head stubbornly, "What I need is coffee."

"Coffee? What is that?"

"It's a drink. It's got caffeine in it and keeps you awake." After a pause, Dean looked at Merlin, "Want some?

"Ah … sure. Sounds like something we could definitely use."

Dean pushed back from the table and stood, "I'm gonna out a pot on. I'll be right back." Walking out, he left Merlin by himself in the cavernous space.

Merlin sat back in his chair, rapping his fingertips on the table top, looking about. While the place was still strange and unfamiliar, he couldn't help but notice the similarities that existed here to his own time. Even after so much time, the human race still needed roofs, tables, and light to chase the dark night away. But what struck him more was the similarity he saw between Dean and Arthur. He hadn't known the man from the future long, but from he had seen so far, he could tell that he was a warrior, just like Arthur – determined to fight the good fight for the things they believed in and the people they cared about. On the other hand though, they were also both pig-headed prats, full of attitude and bluster, in other words; typical alpha males.

Yet still, Merlin missed Arthur and just thinking of him brought on a new set of worries. He may have some grand destiny to fulfill when it came to the young prince, but above all of that, he was Merlin's friend and he'd do anything to protect him. But being stuck in the future meant that he could only hope that Sam was at least a little like his brother in that he would protect Arthur the same way that Dean was determined to protect him.

Only having been out of the room for a few moments, Dean walked back in, a frown on his face. "Bad news," He started, "We're outta coffee."

Reaching for a jacket that had been draped over a chair, Dean picked it up and put it on before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small ring of keys. "I'm not sure I can stay up and read all of these books without it, but I can't leave you here on your own, so you're gonna have to come with me to go and pick some up."

"To where?" Merlin was baffled. Where would they go at this time of night? Surely anyone who sold this 'coffee' that Dean needed wouldn't be awake for hours.

"There's a 24 hour Kwik Mart a few miles from here, it'll still be open" the older man explained as if reading his mind. "C'mon … let's go." Dean beckoned.

Merlin stood up from his chair, running a weary, tired hand through the unfamiliar thick hair on the top of his head. He was tired and more than a little grumpy after the day he had had "Are you telling me that you are too tired to continue reading, but you have the energy to travel for miles into the night for a beverage? How does that make any sense?"

"We're not walking there, ya idiot. I'm driving."

"You have a carriage?"

Dean chuckled, "Oh … she's way better than a carriage." He stated proudly.

Minutes later, Merlin's heart was beating so hard, he worried he might break a rib. The carriage, or 'car', as Dean called it, was roaring at impossible speeds down a dark, wide road, the outside world flying by in a blur - all without the need for horses. He didn't think he'd ever been in anything this frightening before. It even made riding Arthur's ill-tempered war horse seem like taking a Sunday stroll comparatively and that was saying a lot considering the number of times that damn horse had thrown the prince.

Certain that he was going to be killed by the monstrous machine, his hand clung to a handle attached to the door beside him while he shut his eyes and prayed for the ride to be over soon.

"Relax, man. We're only going 45 miles an hour."

Merlin's eyes opened wide, his voice cracking with outright disbelief as he asked "You mean this thing goes faster?"

Dean glanced over at the younger man, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

Merlin wished he had never asked.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Sleep was off the agenda after Sam's little 'chat' with the dragon. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but injured or not, he had to find a way to get himself to the cave Kilgarrah spoke of so he could speak with Taliesin.

Wincing, Sam rolled to a seated position and placed his bare feet on the floor. His chest ached miserably, but he'd had worse injuries than this before and he was fairly confident that he could push through the pain. Getting up from the bed however, proved to be more difficult than he imagined. As he stood on wobbly legs, he felt lightheaded to the point where he had to place a hand on the bed frame before he could move. After a few moments, the wooziness faded to manageable levels and he began a search for some clothing to wear.

It appeared that all of the clothes Merlin owned were on the floor since Sam couldn't find anything in his cabinet except a holey pair of wool socks and a couple of frayed cloths cut to the size of bandanas. Picking up a discarded blue shirt, Sam gave the garment a quick sniff then reared back – it certainly wasn't freshly cleaned, but considering the fact that laundry detergent hadn't been invented yet, he would just have to make do.

Stiffly and trying to avoid pulling on the stitches in his chest, Sam pulled on the shirt. He followed that up by putting on a pair of pants that hung so loosely on his hips that he that he had to use a piece of rope as a belt to hold them up. A pair of boots came next and once he was finished dressing, he made for the door.

Just outside the door, he met a short and dark flight of steps. Though it appeared that the sun was just beginning to rise and dawn was coming soon, he couldn't see the stairs well enough to notice that the first one was made of mostly rotted wood. It was a step that Gaius had been nagging Merlin to fix for the past few weeks, but had neglected to replace as his duties to the prince had taken most of his time and energy. Of course, he was oblivious to this fact and with a body that reminded Sam of being a gangly and awkward seventeen year old again, as soon as his foot placed his full weight on it, he felt it give out with a loud crack. He pitched forward and stumbled, falling towards the stone floor below him.

Bracing himself for the impact, Sam's hands flung out before him and a yelp escaped from his throat as the floor rushed towards him. At the same time, Sam felt a surge of raw, unrestrained and pure instinctual power burst out from his hands and though he could not see it, his eyes burned with a golden light just before he squeezed them shut.

In the next breath, Sam came to an abrupt halt. But, to his surprise, there was no accompanying pain that such a collision with the ground should have created.

Baffled, yet relieved, he dared to open one eye, then gasped at what he saw. With his hands still splayed out before him as if still attempting to catch his fall, they hovered just inches over the floor – as did the rest of his body.

He was freaking floating!

Stunned, he levitated in midair for several moments.

"Merlin?!" A voice shouted.

Sam felt the power within him suddenly snap like a cut string and he fell the rest of the way to the floor. Though it was only a few inches, he landed on his sore chest, causing tears to spring from his eyes.

"Owwww." Sam complained with a groan, pushing himself up from the floor. A surprisingly strong hand grasped his elbow and hauled him up to his feet and once he was standing, Gaius glared at Sam with a mixture of worry and anger.

"What the devil are you doing out of bed, Merlin?"

Sam didn't get an opportunity to answer before he was herded towards a cot and Gaius pushed on his shoulders to make him sit on it.

"Are you hurt?"

Sam shook his head automatically, but put a hand to his chest where it ached.

Gaius sighed, pulling Sam's hand away, "Let me take a look."

There was no denying the older man's concern and there was little Sam could do to stop him from lifting his shirt up to peer under the bandages. Gaius tutted and frowned, prodding the wounds lightly with skilled hands.

"Well … you're lucky. The stitches appear to be intact still and if it hadn't been for your magic catching you, things could have been much worse," Gaius stated, replacing the bandages as he shook his head in dismay. "You and your clumsiness … you need to be more careful. What if Arthur had still been here and saw what you just did?"

It seemed that the dragon had been right about one thing – Gaius knew of Merlin's magic and accepted it as something he was used to seeing on a regular basis, which put some of the. More importantly, he was sincerely concerned about keeping it a secret and Sam didn't miss the look of affection in the old man's eyes for his charge. If Sam had to give a word to how Gaius appeared to treat him, he would say 'fatherly' .

Perhaps the dragon was right about another thing as well; he should trust Gaius with his true identity. Besides, he didn't think he could fool the older man for much longer - he knew Merlin too well. On top of that, Sam hadn't attempted to even try the spell Kilgarrah had told him would make him sound like he wasn't a weirdo from another place and time. So, all in all, trying to fool the older man would just be a waste of time.

"Gaius …" Sam started, unsure how to put his situation into words that would make sense.

"What is it, Merlin?"

"See … that's the thing. I'm not Merlin."

To Be Continued ...


	4. Chapter 4: Of Princes and Punks

**A/N: Hey everyone! I am so, so sorry for taking an eternity to update this story with a new chapter. I ran into a bit of a busy spell in real life and then I got distracted with writing a couple of other short, little one-shots. However, summer vacation has started and I now have more time to write, so hopefully, I can start updating on a speedier basis.  
**

**Also, I just wanted to say a huge thank-you to all of you who have reviewed. As some of you may have noticed, I suck at replying to reviews, but I really do appreciate all of the feedback! THANKS! **

**Chapter 4: Princes and Punks**

_Previously: "See … that's the thing. I'm not Merlin." _

Sam waited with baited breath for a response from the old man. Slowly, but surely, Gaius' right eyebrow began to lift, arching higher and higher into his forehead as he stared at Sam.

The younger man could feel himself shrinking under the physician's scrutiny as an uncomfortable silence filled the chamber.

Knowing that he would ultimately lose the staring contest, Sam dropped his head and cleared his throat. "You um … you going to say anything?"

Gaius' eyes narrowed further, but he said nothing. Instead, he stood up and turned his back on Sam as he shuffled over to a nearby table and grabbed a lit candle. Before he understood what the old man was doing with the candle or voice a protest, Gaius brought the candle up to Sam's eyes and scrutinized them intensely, bringing the light it back and forth, nearly blinding Sam in the process.

"Well … your pupils appear to be reacting normally and are equal to each other …" The older man muttered.

"Gah!" Sam squinted, rubbing his eyes as soon as Gaius pulled the candle away. "I told you before that I don't have a head injury."

"Merlin … you're clearly confused –"

"No. I'm not. Listen to me, okay?" Sam raised his hands and grabbed the sleeves of Gaius' robe for emphasis. He spoke rapidly, his words almost tripping over each other in his haste to get everything out, "I know this sounds ten kinds of crazy, but my name is Sam Winchester. I don't know exactly how I ended up here, but this whole thing started when I touched this crystal thing back home. The next thing I know, I'm here, in Merlin's body, talking to dragons in my head and trying to convince you that I don't have a concussion or going crazy. Oh … and I'm from the future too, just so you know."

Sam panted after getting almost all of it out in one breath.

Gaius sat stunned. Sam knew he still had some convincing to do and he almost groaned in frustration. "_I'm. Not. Merlin_." Sam repeated slowly. "I mean, c'mon … listen to my voice. Do I even sound like I'm from around here?"

Something seemed to click in Gaius' head as his facial features went from confused to a dawning realization all in an instant, "You're _not_ him, are you?"

Sam let out a relieved sigh and shook his head, "No."

For a few moments, Gaius sat staring at Sam as if trying to figure out how to proceed. But both of their attentions were diverted in the next moment when a knock sounded at the door. Before the old man could answer it, the prince of Camelot swaggered in.

"Ah, Merlin. Good, you're up. Feeling better this morning?" Arthur didn't notice both mentor and ward's surprised faces, seemingly preoccupied by a different concerns. He didn't let either man reply before he went on, "I just wanted to see that Merlin was doing better before I left … not that I really care or anything." He added.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Gaius' face, but then quickly faded, "You're leaving, Sire?"

Arthur nodded gravely, "There was another attack by the creature last night. It matches the description of what Merlin and I encountered in the forest, but this time it killed three people on the road to Camelot. I will not allow that beast to take any more lives, so I'm taking a party out to hunt it down. Of course, Merlin's too weak to come, so I'll have to find a replacement servant-"

"I'm coming." Sam interrupted without thinking. He nearly slapped himself upside the head for acting so automatically, but he couldn't stop himself. It was like something inside of him instinctively rose up – an insatiable desire to be by the prince's side – to protect him.

"Merlin, you were injured just the other day." He argued weakly, but there was a flicker of something akin to hope in his eyes … as if he would be happier with his servant following him along. "But, if Gaius thinks you're up to it-" Arthur looked towards the physician for an answer.

"Ah… uh … well … "Gaius sputtered, "Physically, his wounds are superficial and healing well –"

"I'm fine." Sam butted in, again without any forethought, but it was the truth. He felt much better and maybe Merlin's magic had something to do with that. Besides, Arthur was on the hunt for some kind of supernatural creature and Sam, as a hunter, was probably the most qualified person in the room for such a gig. "You'll need me."

Arthur gave him an odd look and Sam figured it was because his voice still had to have a strange accent to the prince's ears. However, Arthur didn't comment on it and instead, looked to Gaius for his opinion.

Gaius threw up his hands, defeated and exasperated, "Well it seems my medical opinion has been cancelled out by stubbornness once again. He may go, Sire, but he should try to take things easier than usual."

Arthur just nodded, but his eyes showed his relief and appreciation. He then turned his attention towards Sam, "We leave in two hours. You'll need to get our horses ready and prepare enough supplies for a few days." Arthur spun on his heel and made for the door only to stop and turn back around, "Oh, and _Mer_lin ... If you're late, y_ou'll_ be the one I'm hunting, got it?"

Without another word, the prince turned and left the physician's chambers.

Gaius sank down in his chair, "Oh dear. This is _not _good."

"Yeah … that pretty much sums it up."

**OoOoOoOo**

Merlin gaped. There was just so much to choose from.

_"Just pick out some snacks while I get the coffee."_ Dean had said when they first entered the brightly lit, and somewhat overwhelming establishment called a 'convenience store'.

But how could he possibly decide? First off, he had no idea what was even inside all of those colorful packages and second of all, he wasn't certain that any of it actually qualified as food. He must have stood there looking like an idiot for an eternity because Dean came back and grumbled something about Merlin needing to close his mouth and pick something already.

"I don't know what any of this stuff is." Merlin protested.

Dean sighed and grabbed a couple of yellow bags off the shelf and tossed it towards Merlin. Still a little uncoordinated in Sam's larger hands, he fumbled with the bags, "What's this?"

"M&Ms. The perfect brain food." Dean then shoved a cup into Merlin's other hand, "And coffee makes it breakfast. C'mon, let's check out and get back to work."

Following Dean through the store towards a counter, Merlin stopped in his tracks at the sight of the woman behind it. Now … the young warlock had seen some strange sights in his time and met some interesting people and he really should have been prepared to encounter strange people in this time-period, but this woman was unlike any he had seen before.

She wore what seemed to be just enough clothing to keep her from being naked. Her black shirt, if one could call it that, was held up only by a couple of thin straps and dipped low – very low – to reveal her ample cleavage. She wore no skirt, which in and of itself wasn't too strange to Merlin as he had seen women like Gwen and Morgana wear men's pants before, but this woman's choice in bottoms showed off her bare legs from toes all the way up to the bottom of her backside, leaving very little to the imagination.

Her clothing was only the beginning of her strange appearance though. Her hair was cropped almost as short as Dean's with spikes sticking out from the top of her head in a bright, unnatural purple color. Her face heavily made up to make her appearance almost a ghastly white with pure black coal lining her eyes and lips painted in almost the same shade of purple as her hair. Merlin's attention was also drawn to the many piercings she had adorning her face; one in the side of her nose, one over an eyebrow and a multitude of them traveling up the sides of her ears.

Her arms too were decorated with colorful designs and pictures. Merlin had seen tattoos only a few times before on the wrists of Druids, but this woman was literally covered in them from finger tips to shoulders. There was barely any skin on her arms that wasn't marked in some way.

Merlin couldn't help the step he took back. He didn't want to admit it, but she scared him.

"Dude … what's your problem now?" Dean asked as Merlin stopped and pulled the older man back.

Merlin lowered his voice, "Dean … do you think that woman might be one of those demons you spoke of?"

Dean stared at Merlin for a beat, then broke out into a short laugh, "Her?" He asked, hitching his thumb towards the woman, "C'mon, man … she's just a goth or a punk or something like that."

Merlin was still unsure – the woman felt … off. It wasn't just her outward appearance that sent warning bells off in his head. He wouldn't be able explain it to Dean, but just being near her made his skin crawl and sent electric shivers up his spine. It was almost like how it felt when his magic warned him of danger, but Merlin knew that couldn't be possible since Sam didn't have magic. Yet still …

"Here … I'll prove it to ya." Dean turned and walked confidently to the counter. The woman just stood there unimpressed as he approached and laid their purchases down.

"That'll be $8.47." She said as if bored out of her mind after punching some buttons on a strange, beeping, box-like contraption.

Dean reached into his back pocket and grabbed his wallet, opening it up to pull out a green piece of paper which he handed to the woman. Still feeling uneasy, Merlin pushed aside his confusion over the exchange and the fact that the older man was paying with a worthless piece of paper and instead held his breath.

After Dean handed over the paper, he coughed into his hand, "Christo."

Something in the air changed in that very instant. The woman stopped, her hand hovering over the money as she looked up sharply. Merlin gasped as he saw her eyes blink from a vibrant blue to a hate-filled, opaque black that covered even the whites of her eyes. She grinned malevolently.

Taken off-guard, Dean stumbled backwards, "Oh crap."

**OoOoOoOoOo**

"How do I sound now?" Sam asked the old man.

"I think you've just about got it."

Sam and Gaius had spent the last fifteen minutes getting the spell Kilgarrah had given him to make him sound like Merlin to take hold correctly. Being untrained in magic made the trial and error process rather frustrating, but finally, it seemed to be working.

"How long do you think this will last?" Sam asked.

"I couldn't say, but hopefully you shouldn't have to repeat it. I'd hate for you to have to explain to Arthur why your voice suddenly sounds like a frog's if you get it wrong again." Gaius pointed out, referring to one of the failed attempts at the spell. The old man was still upset with Sam for volunteering to go on the hunt with Arthur, but he seemed resigned to the fact that he was powerless to stop him from going and was determined to help him pull this off.

In the hour since Arthur had left the chambers and informed them of the hunt, the two men talked and worked out several things. First, they discussed the fact that Sam wasn't Merlin. Surprisingly, Gaius took this all in stride, explaining how Merlin gets himself into these kinds of jams on a regular basis. He didn't even seem all that disturbed by the fact that Sam was from the future or from an entirely different continent, explaining how he had come to expect unexpected things when it came to his ward. It seemed that Merlin's life was much like Sam's; there was almost always something dangerous or supernatural to be up against. And also like Sam, there really wasn't any way for him to escape this kind of life.

The also discussed the possible causes for Sam and Merlin's little switcheroo. Sam described the crystal he had touched in the storeroom and the physician claimed to know of it. However, he believed the rock to be locked away somewhere under the castle in what he called 'the vaults'. Gaius stated that the vaults were heavily guarded, but he believed he could come up with an excuse for him to gain access to the crystal while Sam was off with Arthur hunting down the creature. Sam wasn't completely comfortable with the old man taking on such a risk, but Gaius insisted that it was the least he could do to get Merlin home again.

Next, they worked out a plan to keep Sam's identity a secret which basically involved the voice spell and Sam getting a crash course in dealing with Arthur. Gaius explained what duties he was expected to perform and how Merlin interacted with the prince. Sam didn't think he'd have too much trouble when it came to hanging around Arthur as he and Merlin's relationship sounded an awful lot like Sam and Dean's.

The bulk of this conversation occurred after Sam was ordered to eat a full meal to make up for the blood-loss Merlin had suffered. All the while, the old physician rubbed some vile smelling concoction over his wounds. The stuff might have smelled like something pulled out of a sewer, but Sam had to admit that it worked well and numbed up his entire chest so that he barely felt a thing.

At last, having eaten enough for Gaius' peace of mind and sounding like a native, Sam was ready to go.

Sam turned to leave the physician's chambers, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist, "Merl – Sam … remember, you must protect Merlin's secret at all costs. You may not know any spells, but Merlin's magic is instinctual and if you run into trouble, the magic will want to react. However, you must not let it overpower you, especially around Arthur."

"I know, Gaius. I'll try." Sam agreed, feeling a weird wave of affection for the old man, "Thanks for everything."

Gaius pointed a finger at Sam's chest, "Just make sure that you apply the ointment I gave you every few hours and eat something regularly, especially if you feel dizzy or faint." Sam smiled at the physician's mother-henning. It reminded him of Dean. "Oh … and one more thing. Do take care of yourself and try to stay out of harm's way. The boy complains enough when he's well that I wouldn't want him to return to a body that's any further injured. I'd probably never hear the end of it."

Sam nodded and clasped Gaius on the shoulder quickly to assure him that he'd be fine and then he was off, stepping out as 'Merlin' and assuming the role of manservant to the prince.

First, Sam headed for the kitchens. Gaius had shown him a map of the castle and where to find everything, but the place was enormous and each corridor looked almost identical to the next. Pretty soon he was hopelessly lost.

"Excuse me." He stopped a passing, dark-haired woman in servant's clothing who greeted him with a bright smile. "Am I any where near the kitchens?"

"What?" She asked, a laugh in her voice. She must have thought he was joking."You know where the kitchens are, Merlin."

Sam tried to laugh it off. "Oh well ... sure. Of course_ I_ know. I was ... uh ... was just trying out a short cut and got a little turned around. That's all." God ... Sam didn't think he had ever lied so badly in his entire life.

The young woman eyes him critically with the deep concern of a close friend. Sam wished he knew her name. "Are you sure you're alright? I heard you had been hurt."

"Oh yeah. I'm fine."

"Except you can't seem to remember your way to the kitchen." She pointed out patently.

Sam felt himself blush a little sheepishly. "Okay ... maybe getting knocked around a bit has made me kinda confused."

Taking Sam gently by the arm, the maid began pulling him down the hall, "C'mon, Merlin. I'll take you. I'm heading that direction anyway."

Sam thanked the young woman once they reached the kitchens and learned her name was Gwen when the cook greeted her warmly. At first Sam didn't make the connection, but as she left the room, it clicked. Gwen? As in _Queen_ Gwenivere? She didn't look like a queen or noble in any way, but then again, nothing in this version of Camelot was anything like he had learned from various legends. He didn't really have time to ponder any further on the servant girl though; he had a mountain of things needing to get done.

Now that he had found the kitchen, getting the food wasn't too hard. Except for the verbal tongue-lashing he received from the rotund woman running the kitchen about ordering so much food on short notice, he was able to leave with a sack full of provisions. However, even with that task completed, he still needed to gather the weapons, ready the horses, and help the prince get into his armor all within the next 30 minutes before it was time to leave.

Weighed down with the sack of food, Sam made his way to the stables and dropped off the provisions with the stable hand. Thankfully, a boy cleaning out the stalls offered to get the horses ready for him, stating that he owed him for cleaning out the stables a few days ago for the boy. Sam was more than glad for the help since he really didn't have much, or really any, experience with saddling them.

As he rushed off to complete his next task, Sam was amazed by how many people around the castle were like the stable boy and seemed to genuinely like Merlin. Every corner he turned, he was greeted with friendly smiles and waves. It warmed him a little to see such kindness in others - it was something that he wished there was more of in the 21st century.

Freed from readying the horses, Sam headed for the armory, mentally following the map of the palace Gaius had shown him and hoping this time that he wouldn't get lost. He was more worried however, that what he needed for the hunt wouldn't be there. From the description Gaius had given of the creature that had attacked, Sam had concluded that they were most likely dealing with a black dog or something equivalent to one. Unfortunately, the only thing he'd ever used to kill a black dog was a silver bullet to the heart which was a big problem considering that guns hadn't been invented yet.

Silver blades or arrowheads might do the trick, but as Sam searched the armory, he found that all of the weapons were made of steel. He'd have to figure something out, but where was Sam to find silver weapons?

He slapped his forehead.

Duh … he was the manservant to the prince, wasn't he? The rich noble might have a silver blade in his rooms. He was supposed to help the prince get ready anyway, he'd just have see if Arthur had such a weapon while he was there.

After pulling a couple of crossbows and quivers from the shelves that would be expected for the hunt, Sam headed for the prince's chambers. He got a little lost a couple of times once again, but eventually he found the right door and knocked.

"Enter." He heard the prince respond, sounding a little annoyed.

Sam opened the door and carefully walked in, feeling a little awkward coming into Arthur's private bedroom while the prince was half-dressed.

Arthur looked up, somewhat surprised and pausing in his struggles to get into a thick, padded tunic, "Merlin! Since when do you knock?"

"Uh … sorry?" Sam winced, wondering if he was screwing up pretending to be Merlin already.

"Never mind, _Mer_lin. Just get over here and help me with this damned thing. Where the hell have you been anyway? You should have been here an hour ago to get me into my armor."

Sam couldn't help but feel a little miffed at Arthur's treatment. How did the prince expect him to get food, weapons, and horses ready _and_ get him dressed at the same time? Sam felt like biting his tongue, but then remembered Gaius' words: _'Arthur and Merlin have an _interesting _relationship, to say the least. Merlin isn't afraid to speak his mind, and secretly, I believe Arthur appreciates his bluntness, even when Merlin calls him a 'prat' or 'dollophead'.'_

Well … if the prince liked blunt, then he'd give him blunt. Thinking about how he would respond if Arthur were his brother, Sam came back with, "I was busy getting everything ready like _you _ordered. I'm not Superman, ya know."

"Super? Man? What the hell are you prattling on about?" Arthur scoffed.

Sam winced again at his slip and tried to shrug it off, "Uh, you know. He's a man that's … um … super and can do … super things."

The prince stared at Sam with a blank expression, before replying glibly with an incredulous shake of his head, "You're such an idiot. That's the stupidest thing I think I've ever heard come out of your mouth and that's saying something."

Sam somehow managed to get Arthur into his armor even as the prince fumed over how slow and clumsy he was. Sam didn't think he did too bad considering the fact that he's never put armor on another guy before, but Arthur seemed irritated, claiming it to be sloppy and demanding Sam adjust it according to his precise specifications.

"Good heavens, Merlin. You sure you're up to coming along? You're even more useless than you normally are. Maybe you should just stay here with Gaius this time and recover a little further." Arthur griped once he was finally satisfied with his armor. Even though Sam didn't know Arthur all that well, he knew that the prince's indifferent attitude thinly veiled an undercurrent of concern for his servant.

Sam allowed himself to roll his eyes behind Arthur's back, "I'm fine, " he claimed, feeling that odd desire to be glued to Arthur's side resurface again. "I'm coming with, so you're just going to have to put up with me."

"Fine, but you better shape up. We wouldn't want you screwing everything up or getting yourself killed just because you aren't up to your usual level of incompetence, now would we?" Arthur came back with

Sam let the insult roll off of him. In fact, it brought a tiny grin to his face as it the bantering felt familiar, almost like the kind he and Dean exchanged on a daily basis.

Arthur held out his hand expectantly and waggled his fingers, "Well?"

"Well what?" Sam asked, wondering what the prince wanted now.

"My _sword_, Merlin."

"What about it?"

Arthur sighed, rolled his eyes and let his shoulders sag, "Give it to me, you idiot."

"Oh …" Sam reached for the weapon lying on the bed in its sheath and handed it to the prince who grabbed it with a huff and strapped it on himself.

Arthur shook his head again and mumbled, "This is going to be a _long_ day."

Striding for the door regally, Arthur exited the room with the incognito hunter following behind. But, once he was in the hallway, Sam realized that he had completely forgotten what he had come to the prince's chambers for in the first place. He still needed a silver knife.

"Oops," He said as he stopped and turned around, heading back towards the room.

"Where are you going?"

"I forgot something."

"_Me_rlin!"

"Be right back."

"I'm not waiting for you, you know." The prince called out impatiently, striding down the corridor and away from his servant as if this was normal for him to be so absentminded. "If you're not on your horse in five minutes, I'm leaving without you."

Giving out a little sigh of relief to be free from Arthur for a moment, Sam went back into the room and searched, finding several knives. All of them were made of steel, save for one that looked rather old and tarnished. It was dull, but it would have to do. Slipping the knife into his boot, Sam hurried for the door only to stop once more when he spied a shield propped up against the wall. He really had forgotten something.

Quickly grabbing the shield, Sam took off at a gangly sprint, wondering if this was what life was really like for Merlin on a daily basis, because if it was, he felt truly sorry for the guy.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

_"Oh crap!"_

The black-eyed girl sneered and Merlin agreed with Dean's sentiment wholeheartedly, feeling lost and unbelievably frightened without his magic to fall back on.

Dean reached reflexively into his jacket pocket and pulled out a wicked looking, wooden-handled knife. Unfortunately, the demon behind the counter was faster and raised her hand, sending a wave of power in Merlin and Dean's directions.

Merlin felt his feet leave the floor as he flew backwards into a wire rack full of bagged snacks with an almighty crash. Dean was thrown back as well, the knife in his hand skittering across the floor. Trying to extricate himself from the rack he was tangled in, Merlin found that he could barely move, as if something was pushing him down.

The demon girl spoke as she came around the counter with her hand outstretched, using some kind of magic to keep the two men pinned to the floor and helpless. She strolled across the room towards them and then stood haughtily over Dean. "Well , well, well … Dean and Sam Winchester … fancy meeting you guys here, it must be my lucky day. Crowley sent a whole army of us out to take on jobs at gas stations all across the country thinking that you morons would show up at one eventually, but I never figured I'd actually be the one to run into you. You know, this was only supposed to be a recon mission, but I don't think the boss would mind a little Q and A session."

"Go to hell, bitch!" Dean spat out, equally pinned to the floor and frustrated by his powerlessness against the demon as Merlin.

"Not before you tell me where you're hiding that little prophet of yours."

Merlin didn't have a clue what the two were talking about, but he did know that he was only inches away from the knife Dean had dropped. If he could only reach it …

Dean growled at the demon, but refused to answer her.

Merlin could only move his fingers, but he was _so_ close.

"Cat got your tongue, Dean? That's okay. I've always got Sammy over there to beat the answers I need out."

Merlin's fingers brushed against the knife at about the same time that the woman straddled him and wrapped her fingers around his throat.

The fingers squeezed and the air to Merlin's lungs was cut off.

"Leave him alone!" Dean shouted.

The demon applied more pressure with impossible strength, causing Merlin's face to turn a deep shade of purple. "Tell me where the kid is!"

Merlin lost touch with the knife, fighting to breathe as he choked and wheezed. He tried to fight back, to raise his hands to his throat, but they were paralyzed, cemented to the floor. He could feel blood rushing in his ears, his heart pounding in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. Forgetting for a moment that he wasn't in his rightful body, he instinctively reached for the well of magic he had relied on all his life. There was no response, creating a panic within him so strong that even if wasn't currently being throttled, he wouldn't have been able to breathe.

Dean was yelling, but his voice was growing distant like he was sinking underwater and drowning. He was slipping, losing strength, his vision dimming and turning hazy.

_"**Fleoge!"**_ A voice shouted, cutting through Merlin's fading thoughts.

All in one moment, Merlin's throat was freed and the pressure disappeared while the woman sitting on top of him screamed. Immediately, he gasped hungrily for air through his abused throat, too relieved to still be alive to question how he had been saved. His vision was still fuzzy and filled with black spots, but it cleared just enough for him to see the knife that had just been out of his reach was now embedded to the hilt in the chest of the demon. She fell sideways, her mouth open and eyes wide while lightning bolts of golden power radiated around the blade.

She landed in a heap near Merlin's legs, eyes wide open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

As his sight improved further and he found he could breathe easier, the powerless warlock turned his head towards Dean. Still sprawled out on the floor, Sam's older brother was staring at something just behind Merlin's back. Swiveling his head, Merlin's eyes soon found what Dean was staring at.

Just inside the entrance to the store stood a grey-haired man with a long, white beard that reached to his chest. His hand lowered slowly as his eyes faded from a bright, glowing gold to a dark shade of blue.

Merlin gulped, recognizing the man instantly.

_This. Is. Not. Possible._

The old man walked with a slight hunch as he hobbled towards the stunned young man. He then bowed down a little to speak to Merlin as he lay on the floor, a mischievous, yet kind smile growing on his face.

"Well, well, well … looks like we've gotten into a spot of trouble again. Haven't we, Merlin?"

**_To Be Continued ..._**


	5. Chapter 5: No Country for Old Men

**Hi!**

**I am soooo sorry that I took so long to update this fic. I have tons of excuses and none of them are really all that good, but I'll try to be more attentive to this story from now until it's finished.**

**Anyhoo - there's not a whole lot of Sam in this chapter or a ton of action, but next chapter should have much more of both. Many of you have already guessed who saved Merlin and Dean from the demon and this chapter shall confirm your suspicions. So, without further ado, here's more to the story:**

**Chapter 5: No Country for Old Men**

Though he had been freed of the demon's power, Merlin found it hard to move.

The old man standing above him grunted a little as he bent down and reached for the knife sticking out of the girl's chest and pulled it out in one smooth motion. He regarded the blade, turning it over in his hand. "Interesting," he mused, "I haven't seen anything like this in quite some time. It's certainly handy, isn't it?"

The two men gaped at the man from their positions on the floor. He walked up to Dean and handed him the bloody knife before lending a hand to help the younger man up. Merlin was still too stunned to speak, but Dean recovered swiftly with unveiled suspicion, "Who the hell are you?"

The hunched and bearded man turned to Merlin and winked, "No one special. Just a friend."

"But you're … you're -" Merlin sputtered, pushing himself to his feet. "How is this possible? After all this time you should be—"

"Dead?" The old man finished. He chuckled with amusement. "Well … I suppose I would be if I had died like all people should, but I guess I've never been one to do what I should. But you know that all too well, don't you?" The man asked, directing his question at Merlin.

Dean regarded their savior hostility, "Alright, that's it. You have two seconds to tell us who you are before I start kicking some geezer ass."

"Oh look at you, Mr. I-can-kick-an-old-man's-arse" The elderly man responded in a growly voice that was all-too familiar to Merlin. He pointed a crooked finger at Dean and sneered. "Aren't you tough as nails, huh?"

Dean turned red in the face, "Now, look here, asshat –"

The old man cut him off, "Dean, you really need to learn how to control your temper– " the younger man glared at the mention of his name,"Yes, yes … I know your name. After all, I've met you before."

"What? When?"

"For you it was only yesterday. For me, it was many, many years ago."

"What are you talking about?" Dean snarled impatiently.

The old man looked to Merlin, "Well, young man, don't just leave the poor fool in suspense. Tell him who I am."

Dean turned towards Merlin, "You know who this guy is?"

"Well uh … I think …" Merlin shook his head, staring into the old man's bright, blue eyes. The truth was plain to see, but he still couldn't believe it. "No … it can't be. It's not possible. It's been over thousand years …"

"Can someone please just give me a straight answer?"

Merlin slowly faced Dean again, gulping hard while still trying to process everything, but he couldn't deny the fact that he had seen the old man's face before. He looked pretty much the same as those times when Merlin needed a fool-proof disguise, the only difference being that he had ditched the robes for blue trousers made from the same material as the pants Merlin and Dean wore, a faded red, flannel shirt, a dirty, stained, jacket vest that might have been yellow once, and a pair of thick-soled, black boots caked with dried mud. He looked like someone who spent a lot of time outdoors, making Merlin wonder if he had a proper home or not.

"I think … I think he's me." Merlin confessed.

Dean's face was unreadable as his gaze switched back and forth between Merlin and the old man as if he was trying to see the similarities between the two of them even though the exercise was rather moot considering the fact that Merlin was in Sam's body.

"Riiiight," Dean eventually spoke, his misgivings clear. "I'm supposed to believe that you are some thousand year old wizard?"

"Actually I'm 1345 years old, not that it actually matters," Old Merlin turned and spoke in an aside to his younger counterpart, "after 200, it was pretty much all downhill from there."

Merlin just shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around seeing himself still alive so far into the future. Never mind the fact that things were strange enough since he woke up in the wrong body and time, now this was just getting ridiculous.

"Well what are we just standing around here for?" The old warlock grumbled, gesturing for the two younger men to follow him towards the exit. "If your American police aren't as incompetent as those back in England, then we should get out of here before they show up, don't you think?"

At least that seemed to strike a chord with Dean and he took action, grabbing Merlin's arm and pulling him towards the door, "He's right. We'll figure all this out once we're far away from here."

Old Merlin hobbled rather quickly for a man his age and was opening the backseat door and climbing inside the Impala before the younger men were even out of the store. Once in the car, Dean turned the key and revved the engine loudly.

"Drive, you fool!" Old Merlin insisted from the backseat, slapping this hand against the back of Dean's headrest. Young Merlin shut his eyes, and grabbed the handle above the door, dreading another ride in the metal machine.

"Shut it, Gandalf!" Dean shouted back, stomping his foot hard into the floor and accelerating so fast that both Merlins' heads hit the backs of their seats.

OoOoOoOo

Hearing snickers all around him, Sam tried to hide his reddening face as he gave it one more try.

With rapidly growing frustration, Sam slipped his foot back into the stirrup, and tried to push himself up enough to swing his leg up and over the horse's back, but once again, the mare whinnied and moved forward, causing Sam to hop around on one foot as she turned in a circle.

Sam remembered how the last time he had ridden a horse it had been much easier. That time was yet another instance where he had been transported to the past, (If he ever time-travelled again it would be too soon.), but he had at least been in his own body then and knew how to work it right. He had been taller, stronger and far less awkward than being in Merlin's body and the horse he had ridden had seemed so much smaller. But this time around was different, this time it was just ridiculous. He couldn't even get on the damned animal.

"Any day now, _Merlin_," sighed the prince, half exasperated and half amused.

Sam hopped around a few more times while the horse kept moving. Growling in frustration, he made little headway until a sandy-haired knight took pity on him and grabbed a hold of the reins, stilling the animal as he patted her neck.

"This girl can be a little ornery sometimes, eh, Merlin?" the knight supplied, soothing Sam's bruised ego a little.

"There you go spoiling the show, Leon." Arthur quipped with feigned disappointment while several snorts and chuckles could be heard erupting from amongst the other assembled knights.

Leon grinned back at the prince, "Aye, Sire. But if we are to leave before the day is over I felt it best to help him."

Finally, Sam was able to climb onto the horse's back and then nodded at the knight below him, "Thanks, Sir Leon," he said, glad to have learned the kind knight's name and truly grateful for the help.

Leon nodded back and smiled openly, "Not a problem, Merlin. Just try to stay on and perhaps we won't have to repeat this performance."

It wasn't long after that the group was leaving the gates of Camelot and ventured along the road leading to the forest where the latest attack had occurred. Sam looked about him at the passing scenery and became lost in his thoughts. He really shouldn't have agreed to come along on this hunt. What he really needed to do was find that crystal cave that the dragon mentioned and get himself back to his own time and his own body. But the force inside him that compelled him to follow after the prince had just been too strong to resist. He couldn't explain it other than it might have had something to so with Merlin's magic.

He just hoped that this hunt would go quickly and that when he returned Gaius would have managed to find the crystal stored under the castle.

Sam was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the prince ride up beside him until Arthur spoke, snapping Sam out of his semi-trance.

"You're very quiet." Arthur said, "It's not like you to not be chattering unnecessarily. Don't tell me you have another one of your 'bad feelings'."

Sam turned to the prince, "Do you really have any idea what we're going up against?"

"I know enough." The prince shrugged, exuding confidence, "I know that the creature has killed and will kill again if we don't destroy it first. So, that's what I intend to do and that's all that matters."

"It's not enough to just want to kill something," Sam argued. "You need to know what it is capable of, what its weaknesses are … do you even know how to kill it?"

"What? And you do?" asked Arthur incredulously. "You don't know the first thing about hunting. What could you possibly know that would be of any use other than how to stomp through a forest and scare away all of the prey?"

Sam clenched his jaw, holding back the things he wanted to shout at the conceited prince. Far too many times he had seen people get killed because they mistakenly believed that they knew what they were doing. Hell … he himself was a prime example of the mistakes that could be made when one was overconfident in their abilities and the righteousness of their intentions. Even now he shuddered internally thinking of the havoc he caused when he killed Lillith. He had been so certain then that he had been doing the right thing when all along he had been condemning the whole damn world by unleashing Lucifer. His pride had nearly ended the world and seeing much of the same attitude in Arthur set him on edge and made him want to smack him until he got the point.

"What if I do know a thing or two about it?" Sam responded, "What if I happen to know that the creature you're looking for is called a black dog? What if I also happened to know that this thing can't be killed with regular arrows or swords and that pretty much everything is useless against it? What if the only thing that kills it happens to be silver … do you even have anything that's silver?"

The prince studied Sam, his eyes narrowed and left one slightly twitching, "What suddenly makes you such an expert on this creature, _Mer_lin? The last time we came across this beast, it nearly ripped you to shreds."

"I read about it in a book," he explained simply. It really wasn't too far from the truth, except that said book was actually his father's journal and most of his knowledge about black dogs came from personal experience. "It's what any sane person would do before going up against a creature you know nothing about."

"Okay … say you read about this thing in a book. If that's true, then why didn't you say something before we left? We have no silver weapons."

"Actually …" Sam began, pulling the silver blade he found in the prince's room from his waistband, "We have this. It was all I could find, but it should work, so long as I hit it in the heart."

"What? _You_? Have you lost your mind? You are not getting anywhere near that thing, do you hear me?" Arthur nudged his horse even closer to Sam's, "You've already been injured by this beast, so your one and only job is to stay with the horses. Do I really have to keep reminding you that you are a servant, not a knight? It is not your duty to risk yourself like that … it's mine."

Behind all of the prince's harsh words, Sam saw concern in the other man's eyes. He knew then that Merlin was more than just a servant to Arthur – he was his friend and the prince didn't want to see him hurt again. Perhaps Arthur wasn't quite as self-absorbed as Sam first thought.

"Give me the knife, Merlin." Arthur demanded, holding out his hand for the weapon.

Sam was more than a little reluctant to let it go. He knew he had far more experience with black dogs than all of the men in this group combined and yet he was coming to realize that Arthur wasn't asking for the knife out of pride or so he could have all of the glory and honor of killing the creature. No … he wanted the knife because he wasn't just a skilled warrior, but a good leader; he'd much rather risk his own life than that of anyone else. Sam could see now why history looked back on Arthur as such a great king – he was strong, competent and brave. His only real flaw was that he was a bit of a dick, but then again, so was Dean and yet he still loved the jerk.

"Fine." Sam relented, handing the knife over, hilt first. "But I'm not staying with the horses."

Arthur didn't acknowledge Sam's refusal to stay behind, instead, he was looking over the knife, running a thumb over its edge. He frowned deeply, "_Mer_lin, this knife is about as sharp as you are. How am I supposed to kill anything with this dull thing?"

He handed the blade back to Sam, "Sharpen it and return it back to me when you are finished."

"How can I sharpen it while I'm on a horse?" Sam asked, a little testily and with a hint of whining.

Arthur rolled his eyes as if he was speaking with a simpleton, "Wait until we stop for a break, idiot."

With that, the prince kicked his horse and rode ahead of Sam, taking the lead.

Sam shook his head, exasperated and uncertain whether he liked the prince or not, but sure of one thing – he would follow Arthur and keep a close eye on him. Again, he felt an irresistible and inexplicable urge to protect the guy, even if he was an ass.

OoOoOoOo

"Okay … I want some answers and I want them pretty quick, understand me, old man?" Dean growled, his eyes leaving the road briefly to glare at Merlin's older self in the backseat. Merlin dared to open his eyes as the car tore through the miles of road, but he was far from relaxed. He marveled at how his older self and Dean seemed to think nothing of the dangers that riding in the machine at such speeds posed.

"Certainly. My life shall be as an open book to you. Ask me anything you wish … well, except for who is my favorite character on 'Gillian's Island' – I could never decide between Maryann and Ginger." The elderly Merlin chuckled.

Dean didn't seem amused by the joke and Merlin simply had no idea what the crazy, old codger was going on about. Was he really going end up like that man? He was so strange and more than likely quite senile.

"How about for starters, you just tell us where the hell you came from?"

"That's easy – I came from England. Flew into Wichita from London just this morning ... and boy, are my arms tired." He laughed hoarsely.

Merlin jerked around and faced the old man, astonished, "You can fly? I don't know of any spells than can do that. How did you learn to do that?"

Both Dean and Old Merlin snorted, leaving Merlin a little perplexed.

"What's so funny?" he asked. If the old man could fly, then that was pretty amazing, wasn't it? How could Dean, a man without magic whatsoever, not see how incredible that was?

"Oh my boy …" Old Merlin smiled and shook his head, "I forgot how stupid I was at your age. No … I cannot fly on my own – I'm not a bird. I can transport myself short distances, but a trans-Atlantic flight is beyond even my capabilities."

"Then how –"

"He took a plane, genius." Dean added, cutting him off. "They're machines like this car, only with wings. But that's not really what's important here. What I really want to know is what Dumbledore is doing here."

"Dumbledore …" Old Merlin muttered under his breath, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "clever, Dean … never heard that one before."

Dean snarled, but Merlin's older-self continued without missing a beat. "The reason I came is quite simple, really." Old Merlin began, leaning back in his seat and stroking his long, white beard. "I was destined to save you, just as I was saved by an older version of myself many, many years ago. After all, if I hadn't been there to rescue the two of you just in the nick of time, then I would have died – or rather the younger me would have died. He would never go back to Camelot, I would cease to exist, Arthur might never be king, and pretty much the whole entire planet would have been screwed. And don't forget that you could have been killed by that demon as well, Dean. Do not underestimate your own importance in my intervention. You too have a very important destiny to fulfill. There are prophesies written about you -"

"Oh God … not this destiny crap again!" Dean snapped, causing young Merlin to shrink back a bit at the other man's furious tone. "Do you have any idea how sick to death I am of people saying how things are supposed to play out in our lives? Every damned mother out there seems to think that we're just puppets for them to play with. But t's total bullshit! We don't have to do a damn thing we don't want to. Sam and I proved that already. If we had done what we were 'destined' to do, the world would have ended years ago!"

At Dean's angry words, Merlin furrowed his brow, hating how confused he felt, like he was listening in on a conversation of which he had none of the facts … which he was. Did Dean really think he had saved the world? Boy … he had an even bigger ego than Arthur.

"Ah yes … the apocalypse. I heard all about it." Old Merlin nodded calmly. "But how do you know that you and Sam weren't destined to be the ones to stop it?"

"Arrrrrhhh!" Dean hit the steering wheel with his palm. "Whatever Sam and I did, we did out of our own free will, not because we were fated to, okay? So whatever prophesies or other shit you think we're gonna fulfill, you can shove them up your geriatric ass."

"Of course, of course," Old Merlin frowned deeply, irritated. "Why believe the ramblings of an old man who has been around for over a millennia … what could I _possibly_ know?"

"All right … that's it!" Merlin felt his head connect painfully with the window beside him as Dean yanked hard on the steering wheel and the car spun around, coming to a full and jarring stop along the opposite side of the road. "You saved our bacon back there … I get that and I'm grateful, but I'm not listening to another word of your crap, got it? Now … you can either shut up and let me drive you to the nearest bus station so you can go back to jolly old England or you can get out of the car right now and hoof it. Your choice, Mr. Wizard."

Old Merlin laughed. "Funny … this is exactly how I remember it from last time, except back then I recall it being so much more confusing and I was terribly worried about how batty I was to become when I got to be this age." He turned to his younger self and patted him on the shoulder, "Don't fret, my boy … we're only senile on days that end with a 'y'."

Merlin couldn't help but grin and shake his head. His older self was indeed batty, but in a funny sort of way. He still couldn't tell if he was completely sane, but strangely, he liked him.

Merlin's older-self opened his door and began to step out, "Well … I suppose I shall take my leave then. It's not as though I really wanted to ride in this steel death trap again anyway."

"Wait!" Merlin finally spoke up, before the old man could leave. "Can't you get me back?"

"I'm afraid that is not within my power." Old Merlin replied, regrettably.

"But you managed to return before."

"Indeed, I did."

"But how?"

"I suppose you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

Without another word, the older version of Merlin slammed the door shut and began walking away from the car.

"Say 'hi' to the queen for me." Dean called out his window and then immediately revved the engine, pulling away, once again racing down the highway.

"What are you doing? You can't just let him go!" Merlin argued towards Dean, "He was our only chance at fixing this mess."

"He made his choice, Sa—" Dean stopped and sighed, closing his eyes briefly, "He clearly can't or won't help us. If he could send you back, don't you think he would have done it already?"

"Still …. You didn't have to kick him out." Merlin wanted to complain further and tell Dean where he could shove his attitude, but deep down he knew the other man was right – they were on their own and Merlin would have to find a way to get home on his own.

"Really? What else could I do? Take him back to our secret, underground bunker for tea and scones? Look – Sam and I have managed not to reveal our location to anyone so far and I'd like to keep it that way. There are a ton of bad guys out there that would love to get at all the stuff we've got squirreled away down there and there are plenty more that just want to kill us. So, it doesn't matter if that old guy is the greatest wizard ever or the Pope himself, he's not getting in there. Period."

The rest of the drive back to the bunker was wrought with a tense silence between Merlin and Dean. Merlin fumed mostly, thinking about the opportunity he had lost as his older counterpart walked away. There was so much he wanted to ask him. And he was furious at Dean for getting so worked up over the whole destiny thing. Though Merlin could understand Dean's point of view and could freely admit that his own destiny and that of Arthur's weighed heavily on his shoulders, he also felt honored and special to be a part of it. It was something he could believe in – something that made all of his hardships worth it.

Dean though, seemed to think that destiny was something to be fought and he clearly wanted control over his own life and fate. Merlin didn't know what happened to the other man that made him this way, but he pitied him – something terrible must have happened to have made him think that fulfilling his own destiny would end in disaster. But maybe that was what he real difference was between them – Merlin wanted his destiny to come true and believed in the good it would bring while Dean feared his and saw only the worst possible outcomes.

Thankfully, the trip was only a few minutes long and Dean was soon parking the car between some trees to cover its position. Merlin pushed open his door and followed Dean down a set of stair towards the entrance. Pulling out a key, Dean slipped it into the lock and turned it, pushing against the door as it creaked open on its rusty hinges.

Upon stepping inside, Dean reached out and turned on the lights, illuminating the dark, cavernous space. Wordlessly, Merlin walked down the first set of stairs, following the older hunter. He then almost ran into Dean's back as he abruptly stopped and tensed up.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean called out as Merlin stepped back and peered around the shorter man's shoulders.

"Ahhh, there you are. Took you both long enough to get here."

Merlin couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face any more than Dean could have stopped his scowl, for below, holding an open book, stood his older self winking at him with a sparkle of mischief in his eyes.

"How did you get in? I have the only key and this place is impenetrable to witchcraft or magic."

Old Merlin chuckled and snapped shut his book, "Oh … don't worry, Dean. I didn't use magic or break in. I happen to have the only other key to this place. And why shouldn't I? After all … I built the damned place."

**_To be Continued…._**


End file.
